Vicky fastened a faded black bandana over her crusty and matted blonde dreadlocks and looked into her bedroom mirror. Clumps of rotting wax strewn haphazardly throughout unwashed stringy hair had resulted in a somewhat serviceable facsimile of the free form Rastafarian tutorial she watched religiously on Youtube. She contorted her face and practiced her best snarl into the mirror but was betrayed by her cherubic features and unblemished skin. She needed a scar. Preferably on account of a police tear gas canister or a blade-wielding white nationalist.
Vicky then surveyed her bedroom. Walls that were once plastered with the likes of Justin Bieber and Trey Songz were now adorned with ANTFA flyers obtained from local punk house shows and pages she printed from The Anarchist's Cookbook she found online. A Black Lives Matter flag hung proudly over her bed. She beamed with self satisfaction as she hurriedly shoved a massive bike lock and a few flash bombs her homeless friend Jake had made into her backpack.
Freshmen year and her women's studies degree at the University of Richmond could wait.
She walked down three flights of spiral stairs in spotless military boots across her parents' large suburban home and marched into the kitchen where her mother was preparing porterhouse steak for dinner on the marble counter.
Vicky grimaced and rummaged through their stocked fridge for the last of her tempeh.
"You look cute today honey."
"Cute? This is the final battle against the suffocating death grip of fascism, mother" she countered, snacking on an organic baby carrot.
"Well.. just have fun in Charlottesville dear, and be sure to call us every night." Her mother smiled through clenched, tired teeth.
"I'll try Mom.. but it'll be a little hard between smashing plots for an ethostate and fighting Nazis."
"Okay, well have a good time anyway honey."
"The fate of this country hangs in the balance mom. We will blanket the streets with fire." Vicky sneered.
Her mom nodded and went back to chopping shallots.
A car horn honked outside. It was her black... well.. mixed.. boyfriend Jerald in his mom's 2017 A4 Sedan. Vicky was happy that his mom let him borrow it while she was vacationing in Martha's Vineyard. The leather seats were so comfortable.
"I'm off to the final battle Mom" Vicky declared as she stomped into the foyer.
"Oh wait! Honey.. you forgot this."
Vicky's mother ran to hand her a molotov cocktail wrapped in a brown paper bag. She then kissed her on the cheek.
Vicky rolled her eyes.
Outside in the Audi, Vicky, Jerald and two train-hopping freedom fighters they met at a drum cricle listened to a Leftover Crack Pandora mix, ready to converge on August 12th's "Unite the Right" rally in Charlottesville, Virginia.
"DOWN WITH FASCISM, DOWN WITH RACISM, DOWN WITH SEXISM, DOWN WITH HOMOPHOBIA, DOWN WITH ABLEISM, DOWN WITH CAPITALISM!! DESTROY CORPORATIONS! WE ARE THE PEOPLE'S PARTY!" they shouted in unison as ice cold air conditioning swirled around the luxury vehicle.
Jerald cranked his key in the ignition.
"Wait!" Vicky cried placing her hand on Jerald's extended arm.
"Can we stop off at Starbucks first? I really need a frappuccino."
"Anything for you baby."
The Audi pulled out of the cul-de-sac and into the street.